The Karamazov Brothers

by Fyodor Dostoevsky

  The Staff Captain rushed eagerly across the landing to the landlord’s flat, where their family meal was also being prepared. Kolya, not wanting to waste valuable time and in a desperate hurry, shouted to Perezvon, ‘Die!’ and the latter promptly rolled over and lay on his back, silent and motionless, with all four paws in the air. The boys laughed, Ilyusha watched with the same painful smile, but it was ‘mummikins’ most of all who liked Perezvon dying. She burst out laughing and started snapping her fingers and calling:

  ‘Perezvon, Perezvon!’

  ‘He won’t get up for anything, not for anything,’ cried Kolya triumphantly and proudly, ‘even if everyone calls him; but if I call, he’ll jump up in a flash! Here boy!’

  The dog leapt up and began prancing around, squealing with joy. The Staff Captain ran in with a piece of boiled beef.

  ‘It isn’t hot, is it?’ enquired Kolya quickly and in a businesslike manner, taking the piece of meat, ‘no, not hot, because dogs don’t like hot things. Look everybody, Ilyushechka, look then, look old chap, why don’t you look? I bring him, and you won’t look!’

  The new trick consisted of the dog standing motionless, with the tempting piece of meat balanced on his nose. The poor dog had to stand—motionless and without dislodging the meat from his nose—for however long his master decreed, even if this should be half an hour. But Perezvon had to keep it up for only a short minute.

  ‘Take!’ Kolya commanded, and in a flash the morsel flew from Perezvon’s nose to his mouth. The audience expressed delighted surprise, of course.

  ‘And surely, surely it wasn’t just because you were teaching the dog those tricks that you never came!’ exclaimed Alyosha with involuntary reproach.

  ‘Precisely for that reason,’ said Kolya with total ingenuousness. ‘I wanted to let him show off in all his brilliance!’

  ‘Perezvon! Perezvon!’ Ilyusha suddenly called the dog, clicking his thin little fingers.

  ‘It’s all right. Let him jump up on your bed himself. Here boy!’ he smacked the palm of his hand on Ilyusha’s bed, and Perezvon flew to Ilyusha like an arrow. Ilyusha wrapped both his arms enthusiastically around the dog’s head, and Perezvon promptly responded by licking his cheek. Ilyushechka cuddled up to him, stretched himself out on his bed, and hid his face in the dog’s shaggy coat.

  ‘Lord, oh Lord!’ exclaimed the Staff Captain.

  Kolya sat down again on Ilyusha’s bed.

  ‘Ilyusha, I can show you one more trick. I’ve brought you a little cannon. Do you remember, I told you about this little cannon, and you said, “Ah, if only I could see it!” Well, here you are, I’ve brought it for you.’

  And Kolya hurriedly took out the little brass cannon from his bag. He hurried because he himself was very happy; any other time he would have waited until the magic effect of Perezvon’s tricks had worn off, but now he lost no time, throwing all restraint to the wind: ‘Since you’re so happy, here’s some more happiness for you!’ He was quite carried away himself.

  I saw it at Morozov’s—you know Morozov, the civil servant—I’ve had my eye on it just for you, old chap, just for you. He had no use for it, he got it from his brother, I swapped it for a book from my father’s library, Muhammad’s Kinsman or Curative Foolery.* It’s a hundred years old, that book, shocking, it appeared in Moscow before there was any censorship, but Morozov loves that sort of thing. He even thanked me…’

  Kolya was holding the little cannon in his hand for all to see and admire. Ilyusha partly sat up and, still with his right arm around Perezvon, contemplated the toy admiringly. The excitement reached a peak when Kolya revealed that he also had some gunpowder and that they could fire it now, ‘as long as it wouldn’t frighten the ladies’. ‘Mummikins’ immediately asked to have a closer look at the toy, and it was promptly passed to her. The little brass cannon on wheels delighted her, and she started to roll it on her knees. When they asked her permission to fire it she agreed enthusiastically, without understanding what she was being asked, however. Kolya showed them the powder and the shot. The Staff Captain, being an old soldier, took the task of charging it upon himself, inserting only the least possible quantity of powder and suggesting that the shot be kept for another time. The cannon was placed on the floor with its barrel pointing away from them, three grains of powder were inserted into the priming tube, and a lighted match was applied. There was a quite blinding flash. Mummikins jumped, but then immediately began to laugh with joy. The boys watched in silent triumph, but happiest of all was the Staff Captain, who was gazing blissfully at Ilyusha. Kolya picked up the little cannon and handed it, along with the shot and the powder, directly to Ilyusha.

  ‘It’s for you, you have it! I’ve been meaning to bring it for a long time,’ he repeated once more, overflowing with happiness.

  ‘Oh, give it to me! Give it to me instead!’ Mummikins suddenly began to ask, just like a small child. Her face reflected acute anxiety at the possibility that they would not give it to her. Kolya was embarrassed. The Staff Captain grew alarmed.

  ‘Mummikins, Mummikins!’ he rushed over to her. ‘The cannon is yours, of course it’s yours, but let Ilyusha have it, as it was given to him, and it’ll still be yours, Ilyusha will always let you play with it, you can both have it…’

  ‘No, I don’t want us both to have it, no, I want it to be only mine and not Ilyusha’s,’ the mother went on protesting, and prepared to start crying in earnest.

  ‘Take it, mama, take it!’ cried Ilyusha. ‘Krasotkin, can I give it to mama?’ he suddenly turned a pleading gaze on Krasotkin, as if he were afraid the latter would be offended by the fact that his gift was being given to someone else.

  ‘Of course you can!’ Krasotkin agreed at once and, taking the cannon from Ilyusha, gave it to the mother himself and bowed to her most politely. She promptly burst into tears of emotion.

  ‘Darling Ilyushechka loves his mummikins!’ she exclaimed tenderly and started to roll the little cannon on her knees again.

  ‘Mummikins, let me kiss your little hand,’ her husband rushed over to her, and promptly performed his wish.

  ‘And there’s the dearest of young men, that kind boy there!’ said the grateful woman, pointing at Krasotkin.

  ‘And as for powder, Ilyusha, I’ll bring you as much as you want. We make our own powder now. Borovikov found out the composition: twenty-four parts saltpetre, ten of sulphur, and six of birch charcoal, grind it all together, add water, mix to a paste, and pass it through a sieve—and there you have gunpowder.’

  ‘Smurov told me about your powder,’ answered Ilyusha, ‘only papa says it isn’t real gunpowder.’

  ‘What do you mean, not real?’ Kolya retorted indignantly. ‘It ignites. Anyway, I don’t know…’

  ‘No, I didn’t mean that,’ the Staff Captain jumped up looking guilty. ‘It’s true I said real gunpowder wasn’t made like that, but it doesn’t matter, you can make it that way too.’

  ‘I don’t know, you know more about it. We lit some in an earthenware pomade jar, it ignited perfectly, everything was consumed, there was nothing left but the tiniest amount of soot. But it was only paste, and if you pass it through a sieve… Anyway, you know more about it than me, I don’t know… But Bulkin’s father beat him because of our powder, did you hear about it?’ he turned suddenly to Ilyusha.

  ‘Yes, I heard,’ answered Ilyusha. He was listening to Kolya with keen interest and fascination.

  ‘We’d made a whole bottle of powder, and he’d been keeping it under his bed. His father found it. He said it could have blown them all up. And he beat him on the spot. He wanted to complain to the school about me. They won’t let him go around with me now, no one’s allowed to go around with me. Smurov isn’t allowed to either, I’ve really made a name for myself: they say I’m “a bad lot”,’ Kolya laughed scornfully. ‘It all started with that railway business.’

  ‘Ah, we heard about that escapade,’ chimed in the Staff Captain. ‘How did you manage to lie there? And you must
have been frightened when you were under the train. Were you afraid?’

  The Staff Captain was fawning on Kolya terribly.

  ‘N-not particularly,’ Kolya replied casually. ‘It was that wretched goose that really damaged my reputation,’ he turned back to Ilyusha. But although he affected an air of nonchalance while telling the story, he still found it difficult to control his feelings, and he continued to stammer.

  ‘Oh, I heard about the goose,’ Ilyusha laughed radiantly, ‘they told me about it, but I didn’t quite understand, did you really have to go to court?’

  ‘It was the stupidest, most piffling little affair, and as usual around here they made a mountain out of a molehill,’ began Kolya casually. ‘I was passing through the square one day and they had just driven in a flock of geese. I stopped and looked at the geese. Suddenly one local chap, Vishnyakov—he’s the delivery boy at Plotnikov’s now—looks at me and says, “What are you looking at the geese for?” I took a closer look at him—a chap of about twenty, with a stupid round mug—you know I’m never standoffish with people, I love talking to them… We’ve cut ourselves off from the people—that’s the truth… You seem to find that funny, Karamazov.’

  ‘No, God forbid, I’m all ears,’ replied Alyosha with an air of the utmost innocence, and the mistrustful Kolya was instantly reassured.

  ‘My theory, Karamazov, is clear and simple,’ he quickly continued. ‘I believe in the people and I’m always prepared to give them the benefit of the doubt, but without spoiling them in any way, that’s a sine qua non*… Well now, I was telling you about the goose. So I turn to this idiot and I reply, “I was wondering what a goose thinks about.” He stares at me like a real idiot, “What a goose thinks about?” “Well,” I say, “you see that cart full of oats standing over there. There’s a bag with oats spilling out of it, and a goose is sticking its neck right under the wheel to peck at the grain—do you see?” “Yes, so what,” he says. “Well now,” I say, “if one was to push the cart forward just a smidgen, would the wheel decapitate the goose or not?” “Certainly,” he says, “certainly”, and he grins a wide toothy grin, fairly beaming. “Come on then, old chap,” I say, “let’s do it.” “All right,” he says. And we didn’t have to wait long: he stood casually near the bridle, and I went to one side to shoo the goose towards the wheel. But the peasant was paying no attention just then, he was talking to someone, and there was no need for me to shoo it; it stuck out its head of its own accord to get at the oats in front of the cart, right under the wheel. I gave the lad a wink, he jerked the reins, and—crack, the wheel chopped the goose’s neck in half! Then, as bad luck would have it, the men saw us just at that moment, and all started shouting at once: “You did that on purpose!” “No, it was an accident.” “No, on purpose!” Now they were really bellowing. “Let’s take him to the magistrate!” They grabbed me too. “You too,” they said, “you were there too, you’re an accomplice, everyone in the market knows you!” And for some reason everyone in the market really does know me,’ added Kolya smugly. ‘We all trooped off to the court-house, and the goose was taken along too. I could see the lad had taken fright and was blubbing, really blubbing, like an old woman. The owner of the goose was shouting. “They could get as many geese as they like that way!” Of course, there were witnesses. The magistrate settled the matter in a flash: the owner should be paid one rouble for the goose, and the lad could take the goose. And he didn’t want to hear of any more such antics. But the lad was still blubbing like an old woman. “It wasn’t me,” he says, “it was him what put me up to it,” and he pointed at me. I replied, without batting an eyelid, that I had in no way incited him, that I had merely expressed a basic idea and had been speaking purely in theoretical terms. The magistrate, Nefedov, smiled, then he got mad at himself for smiling. “I shall have a word with your headmaster,” he said to me, “to recommend that in future they don’t let you go around testing such theories, but instead make you stick to your books and get on with your studies.” He was joking, of course, he didn’t speak to my headmaster, but the news spread and the staff got to hear of it; they have long ears, our lot! The classics master, Kolbasnikov, was particularly incensed, but Dardanelov stood up for me again. But Kolbasnikov is really out to get us all now, stupid ass! No doubt you’ve heard, Ilyusha, that he got married and that the Mikhailovs gave him a thousand roubles as dowry, but his wife’s got a face like the back of a stagecoach. The third-formers made up an epigram on the spot:

  Third-formers struck all of a heap,

  Dirty old man Kolbasnikov takes the leap.

  And there’s more of it, very funny, I’ll bring it for you. I’ve nothing to say against Dardanelov; he’s a knowledgeable man, definitely knowledgeable. I admire people like him, and not just because he stood up for me…’

  ‘Still, you did score off him as to who founded Troy!’ chipped in Smurov, who was in fact bursting with pride on Krasotkin’s account. The story of the goose had delighted him.

  ‘Yes, you really had him there, didn’t you?’ the Staff Captain joined in obsequiously. ‘It was about who founded Troy, wasn’t it? We heard all about it. Ilyushechka told me all about it at the time…’

  ‘Oh, papa, he knows everything, he knows more than any of us,’ Ilyusha took up the refrain. ‘He only pretends to be like that, but he’s better than any of us in all subjects…’

  Ilyusha was looking at Kolya with an expression of utter happiness.

  ‘Oh, all that about Troy is a load of rubbish. I consider the question pointless myself,’ Kolya pronounced with arrogant modesty. He had managed to regain his composure, though he was still somewhat worried. He felt that he had become overexcited and spoken too frankly—about the goose, for example—as for Alyosha, the latter had kept silent throughout the story and was looking so serious that the self-satisfied boy was now beginning, little by little, to feel a nagging anxiety. ‘Is he keeping quiet because he despises me, does he think I’m trying to impress him? If so, if he dares to think that, I’ll…’

  ‘I consider the question pointless,’ he snapped again, arrogantly.

  ‘I know who founded Troy,’ suddenly announced a boy, one Kartashov, a handsome lad of about eleven, quiet and apparently shy, who up to that moment had not said a word. He was sitting right by the door. Kolya looked at him with astonishment, but maintained his air of importance. The fact was that the question, ‘who actually founded Troy?’ was undoubtedly regarded in every class in the school as a secret, the answer to which was to be found in Smaragdov. But no one but Kolya had a copy of Smaragdov’s book. However, on one occasion while Kolya’s back was turned, this boy Kartashov had stealthily and quickly opened Smaragdov, which was lying among his books, and had chanced upon the very place where the founders of Troy were mentioned. This had occurred quite a while back, but he had been rather embarrassed and had not brought himself to admit publicly that he too knew who had founded Troy, being afraid of the possible outcome, namely that Kolya might make him pay for it somehow. But now, suddenly, he could withhold the information no longer, and he spoke up. And he had wanted to do so for a long time.

  ‘Well, who did found it?’ Kolya turned to him with a haughty and disdainful air, but it was clear from his expression that he guessed that the boy really did know and was already prepared to face all the consequences. In the general atmosphere there ensued what might be called disharmony.

  ‘Troy was founded by Teucer, Dardanus, Ilus, and Tros,’ the boy enunciated in a flash, blushing scarlet, blushing so profusely that it was pitiful to behold him. But the boys all stared at him, stared for a whole minute, and then, with one accord, all those staring gazes turned towards Kolya. The latter continued to consider the impertinent boy with scornful composure.

  ‘And just how precisely did they found it?’ he at last condescended to ask, ‘and what does it mean, anyway, to found a city or a state? Do you mean they came along and laid a brick each, or what?’

  Laughter rang out. The guilty boy t
urned from pink to crimson. He said nothing, he was close to tears. Kolya let him stew for a full minute.

  ‘Before one can discuss such historical events as the founding of nations,’ he pontificated sternly, ‘one must first understand what this means. I, incidentally, do not take all those fairy tales seriously, in fact, I don’t think much of world history in general,’ he added suddenly, addressing himself offhandedly to all those present.

  ‘Not think much of world history?’ enquired the Staff Captain, suddenly taking fright.

  ‘Yes, world history. It’s merely a catalogue of human stupidity—simply that. I respect only mathematics and the natural sciences,’ bragged Kolya and flashed a glance at Alyosha; his was the only opinion here that concerned him. But Alyosha still maintained his silence and the same serious air as before. Had Alyosha said anything at that moment, that would have been the end of the matter, but Alyosha said nothing, ‘his silence might be a scornful silence’, and Kolya was already thoroughly irritated.

  ‘And take the classical languages we have to study now: it’s sheer madness, that’s what I say… I think you disagree with me on this too, don’t you, Karamazov?’

  ‘Yes, I do,’ Alyosha smiled gently.

  ‘Classical languages, if you want my opinion, are an instrument of police repression,* that’s the only reason they’ve been introduced,’ Kolya was beginning to falter once more. ‘They’ve been introduced because they’re boring and because they dull the mind. There was boredom, so how could they make it more boring? It was stupid, so how could they make it more stupid? And then they thought of classical languages. That is my considered opinion on the matter, and I hope I never change it,’ he finished abruptly. A red blush suffused both his cheeks.